Wednesday, February 17, 2016
by Mark Beckwith
Out of practice as I am at writing blogs (I won't bore you with excuses), I just directed my entire High School class to come check out our web site (Pasadena High School, class of 1976, 900+ graduated), so I thought I should write something here to greet them if they drill in as far as "Mark's Blog."
Um, yeah. almost 20 years ago my daughter was born with a giant mole covering half her body. The doctors couldn't tell us what it was. One "helpful" doctor told us she'd die before she was two. The rest is history and she will be 20 in June and is the Queen of All She Surveys. I call that a victory, and, as weary as I get sometimes of what I'm doing (I guess it's a character flaw that I seem to require a no-less-than-stellar level of inspiration?), I continue to do what I can ... and in so many ways, I hope that I have really only just gotten started.
Wait, my daughter's an ADULT. I should have gobs of time on my hands now, right?
So today I woke up to the unhappy reminder of a potential downside of having a giant mole (one of many, really, but don't get me started today). A lovely young lady in Brazil died from melanoma, presumably a complication of her large congenital melanocytic nevus. When women die from this (and I have known too many now) it makes me think of my daughter. The simple, helpless, fear-filled thoughts of a privately scared dad.
Some days I think I have all the answers. Other days I realize how little I really know at all. In the dead of winter, these can snowball to make me feel cold and isolated.
Then, when I look at the Facebook comments in tribute to this young woman who has just died, I remember that the network of all of the families we have collected together under the greater Naevus Global umbrella stands united, surrounding the hurt, and facing the unknown with all the boldness it can muster.
Wow. Never underestimate the power of moms. And dads.